James Too-cool-for-common-sense Kirk
by Qalam
Summary: Jim faces the wrath of McCoy after a little carelessness on an away mission. Warnings for fluff, and...more fluff. :) Gen.


**A/N: Not to be taken particularly seriously, just a light-hearted piece. =)**

**I covered warnings in the summary so...here it is! **

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The shivering Captain throws a pleading glance at his CMO. "Please?"

"No."

"Pleeaaaassseee?"

"Captain, it is most unrealistic to expect that by repeating the same request whilst elongating the vowels, you will receive a different response."

"You tell him, hobgoblin!" McCoy smirked.

Jim folded his arms grumpily. "You shush Spock! If you can't help me, at least don't hinder me!"

The Vulcan stiffened and executing a smart about-face, exited the room.

"Jim!" McCoy scolded, and the sandy-haired Captain had the grace to look sheepish. "_Now_ look what you've done! I'll have to go and make sure he's not crying himself to sleep now, you idiot!"

"Bones, that's a _teeny_ bit of an overreaction don't you think?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, he wished for a red alert, a Klingon attack, or even a communication from Starfleet Command - _anything_ to get him away from the unstable nucleus that he had just sent a neutron towards - fission without control rods was life-threatening.

"Dammit Jim!" The doctor intimidated very well for a man who had sworn an oath to 'do no harm', the captain noted belatedly.

"That's what you said when I told you that you should find a way to get out of the celebratory ceremony for securing the peace treaty down on that swamp ridden planet! 'Relax Bones, you're just overreacting.'" McCoy snorted and Jim began to edge his way towards the safety of the bathroom before the basilik-like glare nailed him to the spot. "Then you couldn't resist showing off could you? All they wanted you to do was dip your hands in the darn swamp, but _no_, James Too-cool-for-common-sense Kirk had to jump in and do laps didn't he?"

The doctor stopped to take a breath, and Jim muttered something, red-faced.

"What?"

"I said, I fell in, alright! And how the hell was I to know there were huge scaly creatures in there!?"

An icy pause. "Jim," McCoy's voice was dangerously quiet, "did you read the mission briefing?"

"Yes!" Jim said quickly - _too_ quickly.

"Then why didn't you know there were those creatures there?" Still the dangerously soft voice.

"I...well, I sorta skim read it." Plowing hurriedly on before steam began to blow out of Bones' ears, he added, "Look, I'll sleep now okay, I'm sorry! It really was an accident that I fell in and I promise to _never_ again skim read a briefing with that much skimming!" He turns on his best charming, so-bright-you-need-goggles smile to make up for his ineloquence and holds his breath.

Of course, he knows what McCoy's _really_ chewing him out for; his stubborn insistence that they stay for the rest of the celebration despite the incident, and his prompt collapse upon safely materialising aboard the Enterprise - he'd had an allergic reaction to a mineral in the swamp - go figure.

McCoy grunts, unimpressed at Jim's full wattage grin, before saying briefly, "You scared the hell outta me an' Spock twice t'day _Captain_, congratulations. Now get to bed." Then he leaves.

Jim stares, open-mouthed at Bones' disappearing act - he'd really done it this time hadn't he? Normally Bones saw him to bed if he'd been ill before leaving; once he'd asked why (not that he minded being mother-henned over once in a while) and Bones had growled something uncomplimentary about 'pig-headed captains' and 'delusions of invincibility' under his breath - Jim had wisely left it at that.

He was still freezing - the dip in the swamp and delay in returning to the warmth of the ship probably had something to do with that, he mused ruefully, turning up the temperature control.

Slipping into his pyjamas, he got into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin. "Lights five percent," he ordered - he didn't really feel tired yet, but maybe the dimmed lighting would help.

Despite the now sweltering heat in his quarters, his very insides seemed to be frozen and he tossed and turned in a futile attempt to get comfortable. A few minutes later, he clambered out of bed, bare feet padding against the carpet, to look for the extra blanket he knew he had somewhere.

It remained elusive despite his desperate searching and he stood, desolate and cold, in the middle of the room.

At that moment, in walked Leonard McCoy, presenting a sight beautiful to Jim's frozen eyeballs - the doctor had a folded, furry, warm-looking throw over his shoulder, and cradled in his hands was a mug of some unknown liquid - Jim didn't care what at this point, it was hot and steaming - and that was enough.

He could've cried - but that would've taken too much time, and the nectar in that mug would have no doubt have gone cold.

So he settled for grinning like an idiot and jumping back into bed.

McCoy said absolutely nothing, handing Jim the mug and then tucking the covers and the warm blanket carefully around his friend.

"Bones?" Jim stared into the mug of chocolatey goodness, steam warming his face.

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

McCoy gave a short bark of laughter at that and made his way to the door, turning the temperature down to an acceptable level for a human being.

"When you've finished, mug on the bedside table so you don't step on it in the morning," Jim took a careful sip of the hot chocolate, eyes closed and an expression of perfect contentment on his face, "and then sleep. Good night Jim."

"Sleep tight Bones."

Warm hazel and exasperatedly affectionate blue met in perfect understanding before McCoy left.

The door swooshed close once more, and Captain James T. Kirk made a happy sound, before wriggling comfortably in his cocoon and settling down to savour the mug of liquidated warm fuzziness.

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